During my contractions the other night, I got to thinking: how will I know to head to the hospital? Now, it isn't even easy to tell normally, but with the circumstances of Liam's birth behind me I was extra confused. My labor with Liam did begin on its own; I was at work on a Monday morning when I first began to notice regular contractions. Fortunately, I had a doctor appointment scheduled that afternoon, where we heard, "Looks like you'll have a baby today!" Yay!
Well, the contractions slowly sped up, and by nine that night they were about ten minutes apart, but they didn't hurt very much. At that point I had some bleeding. I put a call in to the doctor, and she suggested that I head in to the hospital. So we spent the night there, I dozed in and out through more little contractions, and I generally thought the whole labor-pain thing was greatly exaggerated. Well, the next morning we found out my labor had stalled; those easy contractions were less than half as powerful than they needed to be to get the baby out (dammit). We also found out that the baby was in a bit of distress; his heart-rate had dropped, and I was put on oxygen. A bunch of inducement drugs and a couple of hours later, and Liam was out: a perfect little guy.
All this leads me to the other night. My instructions have been to head in to the hospital when my contractions are five minutes apart, but seeing as I never got there with Liam, apparently I need new instructions. Otherwise Baby Bee might end up in distress or something while I'm still sitting around at home. So first thing yesterday morning I put a call in to the doctor's office, leaving a message that basically told Liam's birth story and explaining that the previous night's contractions had gotten me thinking. I didn't get a call back until 2:15 yesterday afternoon (about five hours after my call).
The call back was ridiculous. The nurse told me I needed to head in to the hospital as soon as possible so that the baby could be checked out. I explained that I had no reason to think the baby wasn't fine, that I was most definitely not in labor, and I just wanted the answer to a simple question. Well, she was not interested in my simple question. After a loooong discussion, I agreed to come in (after all, she was planting enough seeds of doubt that I couldn't just say no). Then she tells me that I can't go to the office; I have to head to the actual hospital where the proper equipment is. I can meet the doctor in Labor and Delivery, but I certainly don't have to check in or anything. This sucks: the drive in late afternoon takes about 45 minutes, and I am pretty sure this whole thing is pointless.
But in I go. I leave Mark and Liam at home, drive myself down, and park at a meter. The nurses in Labor and Delivery look at me like I'm nuts ("You are meeting your doctor here?"), but after someone is found that knows what's up, I am whisked off to a room. Great. We do the normal pee in a cup thing and the normal horrible gown thing, but then, instead of sitting quietly and waiting for the doctor, I'm put into a bed and hooked up to about five different monitoring machines. This is unexpected. I tell the nurses that I'm not sure why I'm there. The nurses tell me that, regardless of why I'm there, I have to check in. I don't want to check in. They explain that I have to, and they get Admissions on the phone. At least the admitting guy asked, "Are you staying?" so I could tell him "No!" But a nurse tells me that, depending on my state, I might just get induced that night. After all, why waste a trip downtown.
Forty-five minutes later, the baby monitoring machine-thingy has a long string of paper coming out of it and a nurse tears it off for delivery to a doctor. Five minutes after that, she's unhooking me from the machines and sending me home. Apparently, the baby is perfect. (Was there ever any doubt?) I did not see a doctor, I was stressed beyond belief, and god knows what sort of insurance bill we'll end up with. I spent exactly one hour there (the parking meter hadn't even expired) for absolutely no reason. And my discharge instructions? Attend my regular appointments. Call if my water breaks.
I didn't even get an answer to my original question, although the nurse suggested helpfully that I call my doctor's office today and ask. Well, I didn't feel like going in to the hospital today, so I didn't call. I have a regular appointment (must remember to attend it) tomorrow, so I'll ask my doctor then and give her an earful. What a waste of three hours of my life.
